


there is a map within my soul

by dreamcities



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gen, but i hope you enjoy it at least a little and maybe stay around, but the eras are different, don’t worry. i have a schedule now. even if its kind of an awful schedule, hello everyone who’s here, im not that good and updates WILL be spectacularly irregular, is this a reincarnation au? uhhhh, it took me a few months to even do the first chapter because i truly am terrible, this is inspired by cloud atlas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-11-26 05:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18176546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamcities/pseuds/dreamcities
Summary: throughout history and beyond, no matter how many different forms we take, we will find our way back to one another, destined to be seven or none.





	1. ONE: WHO ARE YOU?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i may not be an exhibit in a museum
> 
>   
> 
> 
> and i may not be a name to memorise
> 
>   
> 
> 
> but i am
> 
>   
> 
> 
> your very origin
> 
>   
> 
> 
> and we have
> 
>   
> 
> 
> gone down in history
> 
>   
> 
> 
> born to be invincible
> 
>   
> 
> 
> fated to crumble away
> 
>   
> 
> 
> still present in spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone i do not know why the chapter summary line spacing is so weird neither do i know how to fix it. enjoy

**APRIL 14, 1912**

**9.01P.M.**

You, as you are, are nothing when you stand amongst the waves.

 

In the rare minutes the third class spends on the deck the wind whips through hair and creeps down shirts and tries to steal your mind - then suddenly you are all alone. You don’t see the fluttering scarves of the first class women, you don’t hear the pitter-patter of the second class children’s feet. There is only you and the wind, you trying to grasp for who you are, why you are here, and _where you are_.

 

Then you go down the stairs and it becomes a little clearer.‍

 

I cannot begin to explain the energy of the third class. But I can tell you that darkness has fallen and the children have been tucked away, but on the lower floors the night is young and no one could have hoped for more. The band retires from the dull consistency of first-class dinners and back to the basements, where things are unpredictable and different every second, where conversations about children and work and who’s going to win bingo tonight are held at different tables but they all hold the same joy. This is where music lifts everyone off their chairs and onto the dance floor. It’s loud and rancorous and you can barely hear yourself, but your soul is the loudest and it answers.

 

_Who are you?_

Zhong Chenle, twenty, Chinese. Third class passenger. Boarded at Queenstown, Ireland.

 

_Why are you here?_

Tales, tales from _Olympic_ , tales from the brothers before me, tales of the land of opportunity, the land of freedom, tales of _America_.

 

_Where are you?_

Somewhere in the ocean - I honestly have no idea, but it is pretty cold here. We just sailed past the seventh iceberg of the day, but it's been two days since I've seen land.

 

You’re standing amongst the waves still, but here you are. The winds cannot take away your soul.

 

**APRIL 14, 1912**

**9.43P.M.**

I'm not here alone, of course, because as I squeeze past laughing men with beer and slip away from motherly calls of, “oh, didn't see you there, sweetheart!” I know I have places to be and people to see.

 

Back in China I got a letter from _ge_ every week, letters in his handwriting, with drawings by his friends on the paper and little things they had enclosed in the envelope - an American coin, a train ticket when they moved to a different city, the metal cap of a Coca-cola bottle. I could believe that _ge_ was still in China then, in a different city, different province, still believe that he was at university and working with people all around the world, out there in our capital, a little far away, but still at home.

 

I wasn’t the only one who got letters written by _ge_ though - it's just that he's literate, and even amongst the literate, his handwriting is the best. I always liked to picture _ge_ sitting on his bed, probably a bunk bed, going over his notes on what the contents of each letter should be, and carefully writing the letter, stroke by stroke by the light of the flickering oil lamp he brought from home, while his friends slept away the fatigue of each working day. The few of us siblings left at home would often troop down to the post office to ask when the next batch of letters from America were coming - there was Yangyang from two doors down, Xiaojun from school, and of course -

 

“Renjun!” there he is. He’s not easy to find in the lower decks, because the Westerners are tall and loud at night and Renjun is - Renjun is short.

 

He turns around, all smiles, sitting in the corner of the common space where travellers from everywhere gathered and told their stories, no fairytales, no fantasies, just the simplicity of their lives and why they’re here. It’s hard getting their point across, what with the Brits’ native expressions, the Russians’ heavy accents, and Renjun’s own, disjointed English he picked up from the New York Times that comes once every two weeks. But it works anyway - simply because we are all the same, all sailing to the wonderful New World, the land of opportunities and freedom.

 

Yesterday Renjun spoke up in that tiny circle of tales for the first time. “I’m here because I miss my brother,” he said, and I braced myself for laughter that ridiculed and mocked. But it never came - some of them took a while to comprehend what Renjun said, but ultimately they leaned in closer, eyes glowing with empathy and understanding. And Renjun told his story - that Sicheng was all of his family, that our small town was all of the world he knew, that the first thing he’d do in America is to dye his hair a sandy blond, the second is to buy a pinstripe shirt. It’s the simplest of stories Renjun has ever told - and I know that Renjun is a weaver of tales of space and history - yet this plain, _genuine_ story enraptured people beyond Renjun’s usual audience of friends and passersby.

 

I see Renjun stand, nod, and say a few words to the circle, then exits it (while getting his hand shaken and back slapped by a tanned boy Renjun gives an extra laugh to). “What is it?” he says, voice soft against the clatter of dinner trays and footsteps on boarded floors. He’s right - _what_ is it? I find myself looking at his shoes. These are the same shoes Renjun wore when he still went to school. Back then all of us crawled under fences and ran in muddy fields, but Renjun's shoes were always pristine, were always scrubbed with meticulous hands and sharp eyes even when Sicheng wasn't around. Now they're dusty and scuffed from our journey and I think ah, he's grown, then I startle and realise that we _both_ have.

 

I tear my gaze away to meet his, and say, “let's go on the deck.”

 

**APRIL 14, 1912**

**10.08P.M.**

Renjun's fascination with the sky rivals mine of the sea. While I rest my chin on the railings of the ship and stare down at the helm cutting through the water, imagine the countless beings right under myself, Renjun watches the stars twinkle and clouds float by, morphing and twisting and changing. Your clouds are just glorified, floating drops of water, I tell him again and again, but he simply shrugs, then heads back to our cabin nursing a sore neck.

 

The thing is that Renjun is a boy of the unknown. The stories he tells are of girls coming to life in shop windows and boys sitting on the riverbanks in a suit and tie. If the children pester him a little more, he’ll tell them about stories from even further away, like George Washington and his cherry tree, or singing women in bird suits. And when I ask him about the sky? He tells me about angels that sail the milky way with the moon as their vessel.

 

**APRIL 14, 1912**

**10.54P.M.**

“Le,” Renjun finally sits up, “it’s your turn tonight.”

 

Right. Before we even ventured out of home we’d already had story evenings of our own, lying on roofs, sitting on the edge of the old well _(“If we fell in,” Renjun says, “will we become wishes too? Like all the coins at the bottom?”)_ , by the crackling fire. Sometimes it was about the village head's new wife _(“Not again!” I yell in the dead of the night, causing several bats to flap away quickly, “he's a despicable old man!”)_ , other times it was about Sicheng _ge_ and his strange collection of posters and flyers, or about Kun _ge_ ’s astounding ability to fix just about anything, physical or emotional.

 

I take a deep breath - a million different images flash through my head and it's difficult to pick just one. My mind stops on one for me, and I try to tell it like it's right in front of me.

 

“There was,” I swallow and sit, “a boy standing at the edge of the harbour when we boarded - stop smiling like that - and he was...I don't know. His hat was off and he wasn't waving or anything, just looking. And there were two other boys leaning over the side of the ship - in this spot, actually - _they_ were waving and smiling and shouting. He’s like us, you know, and seeing myself in another person is so startling it’s all I’ve really been thinking about these two days.”

 

Renjun is surprisingly silent, and I know he understands, so I continue, “we’ve all been left behind without knowing what to do while knowing that these farewells are for a better life. So how many other people are like you, me, and him? How many of us were left behind? How many of them are simply going to live the same day over and over again without the presence of the people who left them behind? If we hadn’t boarded this ship that would have happened to us. And the boy from that day - he might never see those two boys again. We’re so lucky to be here, so lucky to be able to go find our brothers, so lucky it scares me.”

 

Neither of us are used to an outburst like this one. He doesn’t expect an explanation, and I don’t expect a reaction. “I’d like to walk amongst the stars,” he says, “and so do so many other people, but sometimes simply existing on this planet is enough.”

 

“If we can’t find each other on Earth, how will we even know of the other’s existence in the heavens? I think we’re lucky to be on the same planet too,” Renjun whispers, more to the night sky than to me, but he knows I understand.

 

**APRIL 14, 1912**

**11.39P.M.**

We’re reduced to a mellow silence, returning to the cabin and watching the rest of its occupants play mahjong - Lee Bing is winning yet again and everyone’s complaining. Beyond the shouts and laughter and Renjun's blank stare, my mind is in a different place.

 

I don’t get to dwell on it.

 

Distantly, there is a horrible, horrible screeching of metal against something _rock solid_. The entire floor falls silent - something I thought would never happen. Renjun gets up and opens the door. As he looks out, I do too, and it’s as if time has been suspended in a bubble. The youngest fiddler has stopped teaching teenagers how to play his instrument, a middle aged woman has her hand hovering over the poker table, even Renjun himself seems to be a statue, unblinking and still.

 

The first movement that restarts time comes from the circle of stories.

 

The tanned boy from earlier stands, shouting out to everyone, “carry on!” in an accent that would have made me laugh. I don't.

 

And carry on we did, just as happy, but there's a painfully distinct nervousness present in the air, so outstanding, so out of place even the three month old next door would have known.

 

Renjun's gaze follows the boy as he leaps up the stairs, and he makes to do the same - I know he would have, so I grab his arm. “Don't,” I say, “you never know.”

 

**APRIL 14, 1912**

**11.50P.M.**

Now, standing here as decks of cards go flying and flasks are toppled, let's stop time for just a moment and think - do you know what it is like to see the world fall? Will you see the Great Wall crumble? Will you see the Great Pyramids turn to dust? Or will you see the pillars of the Pantheon topple and snap?

 

You don’t know, do you?

 

Now let's restart time - let me tell you how the world falls to its knees.

 

It starts slow, when the man from the poker group drops one of his cards and dives down to snatch it up. He realises the card is wet, _soaked_. The entire floor, to be exact, is wet, and the water level is still rising.

 

What’s next?

 

The boiler staff are bolting up the stairs now. None of us hear anything beyond “this is terribly inconvenient”, “I sure hope the captain knows”, and, worst of all, “are you sure that door is watertight?”

 

And then?

 

The tanned boy is back, thundering down the stairs, stopping on the last one, and everyone falls back into that awful silence. He looks over us, seemingly every one of us, then he says,

 

“We’ve hit an iceberg.”

 

“That’s fine,” a voice says, “this ship is unsinkable.” The voice is followed by murmurs of agreement - yes, that is what they told us, this ship is _safe_ , this ship is _invincible,_ this ship is a _titan_. I, however, look across to Renjun, who seems to able to read every situation for what it truly is.

 

But I immediately wish I hadn’t - Renjun is _afraid_. And he’s right, yet again, in the worst possible way.

 

“No, it’s not,” the tanned boy’s voice is shaking, and the good-natured glint of playfulness  in his eye has long extinguished, “we’re flooding. Half the lifeboats are already gone.”

 

Now you know how the world falls.

 

**APRIL 15, 1912**

**12.01A.M.**

Renjun’s hand is holding my own impossibly tight, and I would complain, but the ship is already tilting and I feel like I’ve been blinded, yet seeing everything at the same time. It’s the same thing all over again - the fluttering scarves of the first class women, the pitter-patter of the second class children’s feet. The men’s concerned murmuring, and, most of all, the youngest fiddler, on the deck but still standing, still playing on.

 

They don’t faze me, they don’t faze Renjun, we keep going, we run, we climb, and we’re at the same spot we were at just two hours ago. Two hours ago we were simply Renjun and Chenle, two boys finding their brothers and themselves, one boy of the stars and the other of the ocean floor.

 

But now the sky is lightless and the sea is churning - churning with people, boats, people clinging onto boats, people holding onto loved ones, people leaping off the ship into a dark nothingness. “Drop the boats!” we keep hearing, “drop them, go!”

 

Three boats left.

 

“What do we do now?” I breathe out. “Renjun, what now?”

 

And he tells me this.

 

“Listen to me, Le, one last time, please? It’s difficult for us both, I know, but we both have to go on. _Listen_ to me! You’re getting on that boat, you’re going to be safe. And you’re going to have to figure out some things on your own, but you’re going to find Kun _ge_ , hopefully find Sicheng _ge_ too, and you’re going to be okay. Do you understand?

Two boats.

 

“Yes, but what about-”

 

He forces me into the lifeboat - pushes me in, more like, and by the time I manage to sit upright the lifeboat is over the edge of the ship. Renjun is still there, looking straight at me, pushed against the side of the ship by the dozens of men left beh- no, no no.

 

“Jun,” I call out, like he was back in that circle of stories, with the people all around the world who are around him now.

 

“I’ll be with you,” he yells back, “you know I will! Just like old times.”

 

One boat - mine.

 

The fiddler from before is still playing, the only calm face amongst the ocean of teary eyes, faces hidden in shoulders, voices saying I love you, I am here, I will never leave. I don’t know what song he’s playing, but I know Renjun knows, because he hums the same tune when he looks up at the sky.

 

We drop.

 

**APRIL 15, 1912**

**12.23A.M.**

I look back up and I see him - sandy hair, straw hat, billowing pinstripe shirt, bare feet. I close my eyes. This is a boy that belongs on the bustling streets of New York. This is a boy that soaks in the starlight. This is a boy that does not bode well with emptiness and cold.

 

I open my eyes again. The ship is tilting over but he is at the helm, he's still standing as it all falls away. Jun, I call out, how does it feel like to be on the top of the world?

 

**APRIL 17, 1912**

**NEW YORK**

Renjun used to sing this song - it says that for every farewell, a new star lights up the sky. He also said that life is simply a journey of hellos, but never goodbye, never farewell. It must be right, he says. Why, our own word for goodbye - _再见 -_ says “see you again”.

 

See you again, Renjun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! that sucked! but you made it through! i’d give you a kudos!  
> 1\. lee bing is an Actual titanic survivor but i don’t know if he played mahjong or not  
> 2\. 8 chinese were on the titanic; 6 survived  
> 3\. this made me research like i was writing an essay and nothing devastates me more than how the titanic would have missed the iceberg by yards if she kept at her normal speed while turning instead of slowing down


	2. TWO: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And presenting to you, an original by Sacrometry Theatre Company, the first of its kind, a heartwarming coming-of-age play not simply of love, but of carefully hand painted sets, of city lights in eyes, of spilt 8am coffee, and above all, of youth. And for the sake of our old auditorium, Donghyuck, do not buy the purple chiffon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sacrometry is a portmanteau coined by kai, a friend of mine that has really seen the very beginning of this fic. here is her definition  
> “ a combination of sacrosanct (a principal, place or routine regarded as too important of valuable to be interferes with) and the [combining form] -metry (the process of measuring), [...] measure of something invaluable... what is sacrometry? art? life? we will never know”

**SCENE ONE**

_Meet_ _**JENO**_ ,  _the hero of our story, even if I know he wouldn’t want to be. He’s just a boy, but he wants to see all the world from his corner of the stage. He’s mostly quiet, unassuming, but he also sometimes gives half his lunch to the stray cats who frequent the nearby alley._

 

 **JENO** : I seem to never seek the spotlight.

 

 _[pacing within the light]_ _Just as expected_ , everyone says, _typical Jeno_! Never too loud, never unnecessarily impatient, with a shop just off the edge of Broadway, never lit by facelights, spotlights, wash lights, but always watching from the wings. Now you must wonder - how is it like to live on the edge of the stage?

 

Well, my Thursday morning goes something like this.

 

_Spotlight snaps into a wash._

 

 _But first here’s another thing about_ **_JENO_ ** _\- he seems to be way too trusting. As such when he steps into the store at 8am sharp_ **_JENO’s_ ** _lone employee,_ **_TIMOTHY_ ** _, is already bustling around in the storeroom, having entered with the spare key_ **_JENO_ ** _gave him on his first day of work last week._

 

 **JENO** : _[turning back and walking upstage]_ Good morning, uh-

 

 **TIMOTHY** : Timothy, sir. Good morning.

 

 **JENO** : Yes, right, Timothy. Please call me Jeno. Did anything happen yesterday after I left?

 

 **TIMOTHY** : Well, sir, yesterday a very interesting customer came in and ordered the imported fabric.

 

 **JENO** : Oh. Could I see the order form? Thank you, I’ll check up on the stock here, you can get Ms Hund’s order ready, she's picking it up at 2 today.

 

 **_JENO_ ** _looks down at the simple order form. In_ **_TIMOTHY_** _’s messy handwriting it’s printed “silk chiffon (royal purple), 20 yards.”_

 

 **JENO** :  _(mumbling to himself)_ Interesting. This isn’t even a popular material, and so much of it! Maybe for one of the new plays around the corner? And the signature-

 

 **_JENO_ ** _squints at the order form, holding it up to the light._

 

 **JENO** : “Lee?”, that’s funny, my own signature looks pretty much the same. There aren’t many Asians here in New York , and they certainly don’t buy this much fabric. _[calling into the depths of the shop]_ Tim, are we delivering this order?

 

 **TIMOTHY** : _[popping out from behind a rack, a bundle of bright blue cloth in his arms]_ Mr Lee’s order? Yes, we are, sir, he needs it by 8am tomorrow. I can take it there if you want.

 

 **JENO** : _Jeno_ , Tim, it’s 1957 and I’m not that much older. And no, that’s fine, I’ll go.

 

 **TIMOTHY** : Of course, s-Jeno. The address is on the back of the form.

 

 **JENO** : And now you have my Friday morning. It’s simple, really, just the life I wanted, away from the eyes of all the world but witnessing the glamour and flashing lights from my own window. It’s a dream - I’m living in my own dream.

 

_The light fades out._

 

** SCENE ? **

_Broadway, as we all know, is a magical place. It is here we flock to neon signs and theatres large and small, it is here we step into a different life, and shout “encore!” after it is all over. Marvellous, spectacular, fantastic, brilliant, showstopping, the critics say of Broadway and its children - the plays and the companies and the stage. We agree -  we think the people makes the place alive._

 

_The lights snap in to reveal a practice studio, with props strewn about and, strangely, a very well-assembled scarecrow. A few crew members are bustling around, while three people are deep in conversation downstage._

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Now, Ed, if I don’t get refunded for that fabric soon I’m not making Jasmine’s dress. She can go up on stage in her usual plaid skirt!

 

 _Now we meet_ **_DONGHYUCK_** _, who is marvellous, spectacular, fantastic, brilliant, showstopping in his own way._

 

 **EDISON** : How many times do I have to say - we're broke! Pay it yourself until we get to opening night, then we'll see if we earn enough!

 

 **JAMES** : The problem is that we're _all_ individually broke. I don't know, Donghyuck, could you pay for the materials later? We've - holy cow, we're two weeks from opening night?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Pay for the materials later on? This isn't how people do business, _Director_ , and if I-

 

_[A gentle knock on the door is heard.]_

 

 **EDISON** : _[calling out loudly]_ Come in.

 

 **JENO** : Delivery for, uh, Mr Lee?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : That would be me.

 

 **JENO** : Ah, 20 yards of _[a pause]_ royal purple silk chiffon?

 

 **EDISON** : Donghyuck, _please_ don't say you-

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Well, I did! And what about it? When you lot pulled me into this mess James grabbed me by my shoulders and said _[in a mocking manner]_ 'We'll let you do anything you want with the costume, Donghyuck. We've seen your designs, and blah blah blah - _run free!_ ’

 

 **JAMES** : That…I did say that.

 

 **EDISON** : But it's so _unnecessary_ , and we don't have the money - _20 yards_! Why would you need such an atrocious amount of fabric at all?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Well, you all said go ahead, Donghyuck! Go wild and do it all! If you promised me that I could do-

 

 **JENO** : _[a little nervous]_ I mean, you can always pay later on. When you get the money, that is.

 

_A pause._

 

 **JAMES** : Excuse me?

 

 **JENO** : Yeah, it's not a big deal. These things get really expensive sometimes, so I understand, I just need you to fill in this...form? I only have it back at the shop, which is near here, actually, so I can go get it and be back in half an hour, and don't worry, it's not legally bindi-

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Hey, sir _[_ ** _JENO_** _, in typical_ **_JENO_ ** _fashion, cringes at the title]_ , I could kiss you right now.

 

 **JENO** : Uh, I don't really need that, thank you.

 

 **JAMES** : Well now, this is a huge favour we owe you now. Say - come watch our show? We'll save a great seat for you, completely free, and we don't guarantee that the play is good, but-

 

 **EDISON** : _[dazedly]_ Or you could come and watch us rehearse, if you'd like, and then decide if we're worth your time. We'll pay after our last show - in a month. Good lord, if we keep going like this I'm going to retire at 25.

 

 **JENO** : Well-

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Please do come, sir, it's more of who we get to tell our story to than the money.

 

 **JAMES** : _[hissing]_ It's _also_ about the money, fool, we're now 58 dollars over budget because of you.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Well, yes, but _please_ , I suppose we'll _try_ our best to not disappoint.

 

 _A very pregnant pause, as_ **_JENO_ ** _considers._ **_DONGHYUCK_ ** _is hopeful,_ **_JAMES_ ** _appears desperate, and_ **_EDISON_ ** _is visibly drained._

 

 **JENO** : I guess - how could I say no? I'll drop by tomorrow morning and bring the form too. Have a good rehearsal, and please, for the love of your nicely built scarecrow, my name is Jeno.

 

 **_JENO_ ** _sets the (very heavy) roll of fabric down, and nodding politely, leaves the room quickly. Our theatrical comrades are still staring at the space he previously occupied._

 

 **JAMES** : He said yes?

 

 **EDISON** : And noticed our scarecrow too. Donghyuck, if there's one thing you've done right today, it's choosing to get your disgustingly excessive fabric from his store.

 

** SCENE ? **

**LILY** : Mark, the cue script…Mark?

 

_A loud crash, followed by several panicked shouts, including a high-pitched shriek._

 

 **MARK** : Yes - got it! Here! Give me a moment, uh, this is _slightly_ sticky, here I am!

 

 **LILY** : _[after a beat, and taking the cue script]_ Did you break something again?

 

 **MARK** : Well, yes, but it's minor, I swear!

 

 **CHRISTOPHER** : _[from the backstage]_ YOU BETTER STAY PAST SIX TODAY, MARK! I'M NOT FIXING THIS AGAIN!

 

 **MARK** : Yeah, minor! I won't even have to stay overnight!

 

 _At this point,_ **_JAMES_ ** _throws open the door and shuffles in. He looks like he's in some sort of trance, and really, no one is surprised._

 

 **LILY** : It's on the three-legged table.

 

 **JAMES** : Ah, very good. _[taking a long sip out of the mug]_ Why do we have an 8am rehearsal again?

 

 **MARK** : I don't know, but you called for it...

 

 **JAMES** : _[spacing out]_ I did? Yeah, I did. And everyone is late, how lovely.

 

 _A strange scuffling can be heard from outside the rehearsal space._ **_JAMES_ ** _and_ **_LILY_ ** _don't bat an eye, but_ **_MARK_ ** _barely manages to glance at the entrance worriedly before it bursts open again, revealing_ **_EDISON_ ** _, grasping at the door while he glares at the papers in his arms._

 

 **EDISON** : Did anyone put the new light cue in?

 

 **LILY** : But _Ed_ , it's awful! Worst thing I've ever seen!

 

 **EDISON** : Who's the director, Lily?

 

 **LILY** : _[nearly in tears, at this point]_ If you put the blasted _geometry gobo_ in - the only director I serve is James.

 

 **JAMES** : _[still fixated on his coffee]_ Oh, but the geometry gobo was my idea?

 

 **LILY** : No, we're not having the geometry gobo. If any of you put it in - Mark, don’t follow the cue during the show.

 

 _Perhaps it is due time we introduce the centrepiece of the project, the production trio._ **_JAMES_ ** _and_ **_EDISON_ ** _are co-directors of the play._ **_JAMES_ ** _is spontaneous, optimistic, and always a little jittery - it’s the excessive caffeine consumption._ **_EDISON_ ** _is no less brilliant than his namesake’s most famous invention, even if constantly in need of a break (please, he’s going to fuse soon). They’re a sheer force of chaos together, much to_ **_LILY_ ** _’s despair. She’s the trusty stage manager, who is the one keeping them from the unfortunate idea of adding in a part where the female lead enters the stage perched on the fly bar. I have to tell you, this company is a mess._

 

 **EDISON** : Fine, alright? No geometry gobo, but to _fully_ put the resources we have to good use, we'll use the city lights one in scene 4. This isn't up for discussion.

 

 _At this point,_ **_JENO_ ** _enters at stage right, effectively stopping_ **_LILY_ ** _from saying anything else._

 

 **JAMES** : Jeno! Back again?

 

 **JENO** : Huh? Yeah, I...was wondering if you needed help? Seeing as a lot of things don’t seem to be complete _[various defeated sighs from the others]_ \- like the dress?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : _[appearing on the side of the stage]_ Yeah, it’s nowhere near done. Hey, Jeno!

 

 **EDISON** : Well, maybe hurry up with that dress, then?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : You know, Ed, you seem to still think I'm a complete fool. Hey, I'm gonna take him around, alright? He's hung out with the cast enough, it's time to see the behind-the-scenes. Come along here, buddy, you're gonna love this.

  
  
**JENO** : Your workspace?

  
**DONGHYUCK** : Yeah, a mess, isn't it? But magic happens here, so a little mess is inevitable. Welcome to the backstage, Jeno. I, too, have no idea what I'm doing with the dress, so we'll just have to wait and see, hm?

 

 **JENO** : _[very much concerned]_ What- But don't you have, I don't know, a sketch, at least?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Well - no, not really. Sometimes you just have to take something and see when you can get from it, you know?

 

 **JENO** : No, I’m afraid I don’t, but that’s alright. Do you need help?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Oh, hardly! But you can sit right here and listen to me talk. Ask about anything! Who are we, why we’re doing this play, why we’re even doing it together at all, whether anyone is alright at this point - no, we’re not - you know, ask! Anything at all.

 

 **JENO** : Perhaps start with how this began?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : That’s a little difficult, but only because it's been so long. I guess back in high school our holy trinity - that’s the directors and the stage manager - were everything. Just the three of them writing scripts and blocking and messing up the mediocre lighting system. I have to say, I’m glad it’s them.

 

 **JENO** : Because they’re reliable?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Pass me the scissors, won’t you? And it’s more than that, it’s because they’re a group of people who remember their days fooling around on the high school hall stage as if it was yesterday when they first stepped into the dingy corridors and a few hours ago graduated.

 

 **JENO** : And the three of them, what brought them together? Also, black thread on this fabric isn’t a good idea.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : No one knows, really, no one except for themselves. If anyone knows how much coffee James needs to stop at, it’s Ed. if anyone knows Ed's tea choices, it’s Lily. If anyone knows that Lily cannot stand suspicious wigs, it’s the either of the boys. Just strange things from strange memories no one else knows.

 

 **JENO** : That's wonderful, really, to know your friends and you have things only you share. Say - this needs to be hand stitched, surely you know how long that'll take. Are you sure you don't need help? Tim is handling the store pretty well, anyway.

 

 _For a while_ **_JENO_ ** _gets no reply, and he notes that_ **_DONGHYUCK_ ** _looks strangely lonely. Lonely, but at peace with it._

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : A little help could be useful.

 

** SCENE ? **

_This scene calls for chaos. The scarecrow is toppled, there’s a pile of shoes by the door, and seemingly everyone is running around. There’s a piece of paper with “7 DAYS TO OPENING NIGHT” taped to a table, where our director-stage manager trio is prodding at a stack of scripts with their pencils and scribbling in notebooks. Amidst this,_ **_JENO_ ** _and_ **_DONGHYUCK_ ** _are on the floor, with paint on their hands and a prop to fix._

 

 **JENO** : So - does this happen a lot? A prop breaking worryingly close to opening night?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Well, yes. It’s not pleasant and shouldn’t be happening, but it does, so we’ve just developed great crisis management skills. At this point most the costumes and other details like sounds are finalised anyway, so Christopher can pull everyone in to help with damage control.

 

 **JENO** : How does that work? I mean, aren’t you all specialised in one area?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : _[chuckling, while aggressively shaking the paint out of its container]_ Oh, Jeno, surely you don’t think we’re only good at one thing?

 

 **JENO** : _[spluttering]_ What- no, I just-

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : I’m kidding! But really, I get why it’s strange to you. But when things go badly, you just have to help when you can, don’t you? That’s the kind of solidarity we’re expected to have.

 

 **JENO** : So it’s not just Christopher and co…

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Absolutely not. You see - we’re all here prepared to do everything we can to pull the play together. Otherwise, Christopher is amazing on his own. Have you seen the very first of his set sketches? Coloured, annotated, everything, so clear even the newest kid - that’s Mark, actually - knew exactly what he meant. Of course things get messier as we go along, but as he aptly puts it: if you’re still lost by the time the sketches get messy, something is very wrong, and then you should have a cup of tea with him, maybe. He’s the kind of person that makes someone want to work for them, you know?

 

 **JENO** : I do, kind of. The kind of person that you’d be glad to make proud. Like you, in fact, you’re nice to work with.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Jeno, good sir _[“please,”_ **_JENO_ ** _interjects, “never say that again”]_ , you’re not too bad yourself.

 

 **JENO** : And what about Mark? Lights aren’t easy to do, I think?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : I know I just called him a kid, but the truth is...the truth is that he’s older than I am. And I don’t think it’s the age but, he’s picking things up really well. Surprisingly well. If you throw me into the control room and told me here, figure this out, here’s a semi-experienced senior who can help you a little, but you’re going have to do a lot on your own, I would have panicked and screwed all the cues up. That’s what happened to Mark, because the girl who usually does our lighting is doing that for another play - West Side Story, was it? Except Mark took it in his stride, and I have to say, our lights are pretty darn beautiful right now. And as much as he’s a prop destroyer, he’s also a decent propmaker.

 

 _A comfortable silence falls between the two. Gradually, the scene forms a tableaux and_ **_JENO_ ** _is lit by a soft light._

 

 **JENO** : It’s a lovely thing, to talk to someone from the backstage. He speaks of these people so fondly, as if they were family, a home they had built together. But I wonder, I do - why does he never speak of his own work? It is as essential as the rest, yet he never tells me. Still, perhaps someday I’ll know.

 

** SCENE ? **

_We're back to_ **_JENO_** _'s shop. It’s a slower day, with only_ **_TIMOTHY_ ** _behind the counter, calculating this and that, not that he does much else when_ **_JENO_ ** _is around._ **_DONGHYUCK_ ** _enters, struggling with and a large roll of fabric._

 

 **TIMOTHY** : Oh, Mr Lee, do you need- help- I’ve got it!

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Thank you, uh, yes, is Jeno in?

 

 **TIMOTHY** : He’s...occupied? With what I’m not sure, but let’s just say he isn’t, I suppose. Is there anything you need?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : 20 yards _was_ too much after all, and he said I could return the parts I didn’t need?

 

 **TIMOTHY** : Oh, he told me about it! And you haven’t paid yet _[an awkward but polite smile]_ so that makes things more convenient too. Just need to complete some records, and we’re done. And...I don’t mean to be nosy, Mr Lee, but what is it exactly that you do?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : What is it that I do? Broadway is down the street, my boy, why else would I need fabric in such large quantities? I make costumes.

 

 **TIMOTHY** : Really? Why, that’s my dream job! Please do tell me more, sir.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : What is there to say? You already know everything, I’m sure, the only thing I can tell you is why I’m doing it. And even then it’s simple. Costumes is a sort of magic.

 

 **TIMOTHY** : I know and agree, but if it isn’t too personal for you to answer - could you tell me why it is magic to you?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Do you want to sit down? We might be here for a while.

 

 _The light on_ **_DONGHYUCK_ ** _and_ **_TIMOTHY_ ** _dims as their conversation fades into a murmur, while another spotlight reveals_ _JENO_ , _looking at the two with a certain fondness._

 

 **JENO** : I _was_ in actually, just upstairs and half-asleep, because I’d stayed behind with Donghyuck last night touching up the costumes for opening night - tonight.

 

 _[pacing, pondering]_ And why doesn’t he tell me the things he’s telling Timothy now? But I’m glad to be listening from a distance now, a listener only rather than a converser. Doing something you love is so _rare_ today, and I’m happy that he’s doing it all the same.

 

 _[with a wistful smile]_ It is wonderful, isn’t it? To be able to work your own magic with people you love and who appreciate what you know. I should go watch that play - not that I wasn’t already going to.

 

** SCENE ? **

**_JENO_ ** _was very nearly late. He usually wouldn’t be, but it’s raining and_ **_TIMOTHY_ ** _lives a good distance across town._ **_JENO_ ** _, the kind-hearted soul he is, walked him all the way home. Turns out he's just on time, nodding and smiling at the front of house, who informs him to not worry, the house just opened 5 minutes ago. Now, hair damp and significantly more dishevelled than anyone would have liked, he wanders around in the lobby, waiting-_

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : _[teasing]_ And here I was thinking that you were going to be late. What did I say about being dressed neatly for the show, hm?

 

 **JENO** : Very funny, Donghyuck. I'm never truly late. And I'd better be here and slightly messy than dry and absent, right? Tell me where my seat is, will you, and is everything alright back there?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Oh, peachy, Mark didn't trip over _anything_ today, not even air! Lily's ready with the cues, James is awake, Ed is calm for once, and Chris is amazingly _jobless_. I can't be with you later on, but enjoy the show, won't you? I think you know-

 

 **JENO** : Wait a moment, Donghyuck, let's stop here for a bit.

 _[taking a deep breath]_ You're nervous, aren't you? Don't deny - you're starting to ramble. It's going to be alright. You've worked your magic well, now leave it to the cast to work theirs. I'm proud of how far everyone has come.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : _[humming]_ Magic, huh? I didn't know you were this sentimental, didn’t think you’d remember me mentioning the backstage being magical either.

 

 **JENO** : Be quiet, I’m just being nice. I don’t exactly _remember_ either, I simply understand now. We’re both the same, in some way. You run the play behind the curtains, but you have to admit, you can’t get anywhere without me - or establishments like mine, at least. Besides, I got a reminder earlier today.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : What- when I was talking to Timothy?

 

 **JENO** : Of course. He’s a good kid.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Isn’t he? Let’s get you to your seat, then. Never be late for a play, Jeno, know this for the future.

 

 **JENO** : _[laughing]_ For what, when I watch more plays by you lot?

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Who else would you watch? There it is. We’ve labelled your seat, can’t miss it, James’ handwriting is kind of atrocious.

 

 **JENO** : Thank you, Donghyuck, really. For helping me see how wonderful the stage _and_ the backstage can be.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : That’s no big deal, just stay patient when I drop by asking for 20 yards of strange fabric sometime in the future again. Or maybe work directly with us. You’re kind of amazing at embroidery.

 

 **JENO** : Give that opportunity to Timothy instead, perhaps. I have the shop, and he deserves the chance.

 

 **DONGHYUCK** : Alright, alright, now will you sit down? The show must go on, Jeno. And - I mean this - I hope you’re proud of your work too.

 

 **_JENO_ ** _settles down in his seat (which has a piece of paper with “JENO, OUR BUDGET SAVIOUR” scrawled across taped to it), beaming, while_ **_DONGHYUCK_ ** _sprints offstage to join the rest of the crew. Amidst the applause-_

 

_CURTAIN._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> given my context i think this chapter was overwhelmingly self-indulgent but also disappointing for my relevant pals. sorry everyone happy jeno day


	3. THREE: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A marvellous mix of traditional circus acts with modern acrobatics, Saltimbanco first delighted audiences in 1992 and had become Cirque du Soleil's longest running production by the time it closed at the end of 2012. This incredible span of spectacular success in three different decades feature 6000 big top and arena performances to 14 million spectators in 140 cities across the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy hyuck day stream dnyl this chapter was kinda badly timed and was supposed to be out earlier

**CITY OF DREAMS: CIRQUE DU SOLEIL OFFERS A NEW PERSPECTIVE OF THE WORLD**

The circus is wild, is liberating, is magical, and if anything, a place where stories are told by masked creatures of your wildest dreams, we learn in this special interview, where we delve into the world of  _ Saltimbanco _ , the all new production by  _ Cirque du Soleil _ .

 

MONTREAL—Our chance at discovering the inner works of  _ Saltimbanco  _ comes to us after the premiere on 23 April, where we snag the chance to interview a cast member after the show. Though certain stars like La Belle and the Baron dazzled throughout the show and acrobats took the audience’s breath away, there was one specific member of  _ Saltimbanco _ ’s 51-membered performance ensemble that intrigued us endlessly. Today, we sit down with Mark Lee, who plays the Dreamer, the playful blue costumed fantastical character complete with striped tail.

  
  


_ (“Seriously, dude,” the editor laughs, feet up on his desk, “Intrigued us endlessly? It's like you have a crush on this guy. Also, I know it’s not you, but “the Dreamer” is the cheesiest name I’ve heard from the circus.” _

 

_ Across from him, the reporter smiles tiredly, albeit with a glint of good-natured mischief in his eye. “Just read,” he says, “you’ll see.”) _

  
  


**_IF ONE HAS NEVER BEEN TO CIRQUE DU SOLEIL, BE PREPARED TO REDEFINE THE MEANING OF “CIRCUS.”_ **

**_―_ ** _ Variety, October 12, 1992 _

  
  


_ Hello, Mark! _

**MARK:** Ah, hello, hello, you...wanted an interview?

 

_ Of course, you really caught my eye out there! Fantastic work, by the way, I’ve never seen anything like this performance. _

**MARK:** You’re very kind- it’s so kind of you to say that. Sorry I’m a little, uh, scattered, but I swear it’s just the high from the premiere .

 

_ That’s perfectly alright. Let’s jump right in, shall we? _

**MARK:** Go ahead!

 

_ Mind giving us a context of the show for our readers who haven’t watched it? _

**MARK:** Where to begin?  _ Saltimbanco  _ is a celebration of our bustling cities and what lies within. It’s a...celebration of all things human and all life. A look into the wonders of life in this world. Even though it may seem cruel sometimes.

 

_ That sounds like a dream, and I must say, it sure looks like one on stage. And about your role, as the Dreamer? _

**MARK:** Well, the Dreamer isn’t too difficult to understand, once you make sense of what’s going on in the show.  He’s a resident of the in-between, between illusion and reality. I like to think that he definitely loves the world he builds in his mind much more, since he regularly dozes off at many points in the show, but he’s also responsible of taking care of the Child—that’s him over there, hello, Charlie—so that keeps him rooted in reality, I suppose.

 

_ It really is something you have to watch in person to really understand, isn’t it? Moving on, here’s something that I’m sure many of us are curious about. What motivated you to become a circus performer? _

**MARK:** It's something quite simple, but at the same time very complex.  _ Cirque du Soleil  _ aims to tell stories beyond simple entertainment, and that is what drives me not just to amuse the masses, but also to help them think of what the world is beyond their familiarity or what is the flip side of what they know. Being a storyteller is my purpose, if you will. Performing with the circus is just a way to get there for me.

  
  


**_"SALTIMBANCO" REMAINS ANCHORED IN THE TRADITION OF CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMANCE. IT IS LIKE NOTHING ELSE IN THE CIRCUS WORLD._ **

**_―_ ** _ Chicago Tribune, July 25, 1993 _

  
  


_ What do you hope to bring to the audience? _

**MARK:** Hm...happiness? No, not happiness. Wonder, yes, that. The priority is wonder.

 

_ And why? _

**MARK:** Like I said before, my purpose—it's also the company’s purpose, kind of—is to tell a story. I would like to make my audience  _ think _ ...let them ponder the meaning of what they see and be curious about what they don’t. Maybe in the future we'll perform and tell stories about ancient tribes and aliens in deep space...but for now we're in the metropolis. Starting from home, big cityscape, you know? Does that make any sense?

 

_ Mmm, it does to me. And this is a big cast, is it not? Fifty-one people! What is it like working with so many skilled people under the big top? _

**MARK:** (laughing) Yes, yes, it's a new adventure every day! The people here are really so  _ diverse _ . We're all from different parts of the world. I'm relatively local, I guess, was born in Toronto and everything, but we have the brothers from China with the boleadoras, then you've got Charlie who's-  no one actually knows where he's from, he's just Asian, our trapeze artists are from Europe...and so on! It’s so many different cultures coming together to tell the same story from the same lens, and I think that’s pretty amazing.

 

_ Charlie, who, of course, plays the Child, appears bright and playful on stage and perpetually bothers the Dreamer. Is there any difference between your dynamic on and off stage, seeing as you work most closely with him? _

**MARK:** Goodness, no, not really, he’s considerably shy in person, so you’ll usually find him and his crosswords book in one of the dressing rooms, but otherwise? He’s just as annoying. He clings to me the most, so much so that everyone knows that if he’s not in a dressing room, he’s with Mark. Hang around here a little more and you’ll start hearing “Mark, tell Charlie that lunch is here!” or “Mark, we need Charlie, get him here!”, even when I have no idea where he is either. He’s a pain sometimes, when he takes my things and forgot he ever took them at all, but otherwise he’s like a little brother. Not one I wanted, but one I’m glad to have after all.

  
  


**_INSPIRED BY "THE URBAN FABRIC OF THE METROPOLIS AND ITS COLORFUL INHABITANTS," "SALTIMBANCO” IS LIKE A GIANT GAME, AND THE RAINBOW-COLORED STAGE IS THEIR PLAYGROUND._ **

**_―_ ** _ GMA News, August 17, 2012 _

  
  


_ Ah, that’s really sweet. I’m glad to hear that you two work well together! As much as I would love to hear more about you and the rest of the cast, our time is limited. How has Saltimbanco, specifically, changed you? _

**MARK:** The show’s outlook has certainly changed my own, and I know to look upon things from many different angles and be open to many more possibilities now. Other than that I’ve definitely grown a lot skill wise. There are many members of the cast who are way more experienced them I am, and being able to work alongside them is really a great honour for me. Peter (he’s the Baron) and Leslie (La Belle) in particular have been really great help. They’re both extremely experienced performers, and I’m grateful for their help when I first became the Dreamer and had no idea how to bring him to life. Other than that...I think everyone at  _ Saltimbanco _ has something to bring to the table, whether cast or staff. There’s just so much that we haven’t seen that others have. Actually, that’s also part of our message to the audience as  _ Saltimbanco _ .

 

_ Oh, elaborate on the last part? About Saltimbanco’s message to the audience? _

**MARK:** There being things we don’t know that others do? Hm... _ Saltimbanco _ is a story set in between reality and dreams—ah, we’ve covered that before. Anyway, other than exploring the hidden parts of our world and poking fun at certain things in it—that’s the Dreamer’s job, by the way—we wanted to tell the audience that hey! this is our take on the world, this is what one of us sees, this is what another one sees, what about you? What do you see? What does someone else see? How can we all come together? We would like for  _ Saltimbanco _ to be thought-provoking in that way.

 

_ Well, it’s certainly prompted me to think about it a little more! Finally, any plans for the future, Mark? _

**MARK:** Well...as much as I want to plan everything out, I can’t. So it’s just...go with the flow and see how things come around for now, you know? I’ll be doing this show for a good while, I  _ hope _ I’ll be doing this show for a long time. After that...maybe a break, I’ll need it, and then back to performing. Where and as what I definitely have no idea, but it’s always going to be performing. There are no specifics for my future, but there it is. It’s pretty simple, I guess.

 

_ Well, Mark, best of luck! I’m sure you’ll be somewhere you want to be even after Saltimbanco. Any last things you want to say? To anyone that’s going to read this interview? _

**MARK:** Never lose wonder...and always be ready to learn. And uh, thank you for reading! Come watch us when you have the time to, and come with curiosity and an open mind.

 

Tickets for  _ Saltimbanco  _ are still available. Catch  _ Le Cirque _ at the big top in the coming weeks, and for our readers around the world, look out for the  _ Saltimbanco  _ world tour, promised to occur in the near future.

 

_ (“Well,” the editor smiles, “that wasn’t bad. Very good, actually, for your first review.” _

 

_ “I told you so. It’s a good show, after all, couldn’t have messed it up.” _

 

_ The editor stands from behind his desk, and reaches out to pat the reporter on his shoulder. “Well then, let’s get this interview of yours published. I kind of wish I went with you now, it does sound like a really good show. Also, you made your own life really difficult. Did you know you can take a tape recorder with you if you’re interviewing someone solo instead of writing everything down word for word like you did?” _

 

_ A heavy sigh is audible, and the editor has to chuckle. “Well, I know now, and will remember for, ah, future reference.” _

 

_ “Of course. Hey, did you actually go home and think about what he said? How people can come together and all that?” _

 

_ “Well, I thought about something else. You know what he said about always being ready to learn? If I get out there and learn more and then get better at this thing maybe I’ll switch departments. From sports reporter to special arts special correspondent, hm? Build up the reputation, start actually reviewing shows instead of just doing interviews. It’s a trustworthy review if it’s by Lee Donghyuck! Anything Lee Donghyuck-approved is a good enough to spend your money and time on! He’s reliable, he’s unbiased, he’s lovely to work with and to read!” _

 

_ “Alright, alright, you can stop, I’ll ask the higher ups to look into it, they’ll probably approve, everyone knows you hate the rest of the sports team, and you’re already decent at this, anyway. But before that, lunch?” _

 

_ “Oh, definitely.”) _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i think only like three people are reading and they’re all my friends thank you for your support concerning this mediocre work pals
> 
> most things in this chapter are true except cast names i did a ridiculous amount of research (eg. saltimbanco DID premiere on 23 april too bad jeno doesn’t feature heavily here)

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you really wanna yell at me about anything you have three options  
> i. comment (please!) anonymous or not it Doesn’t Matter  
> ii. my twt is @yanchen_s and my cc is @sunglovbot  
> iii. my tumblr is @dreamcitys but like. im never there anymore


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